The windStep cleared, and Risens found himself in another distinct chamber within the Roost. The impressive, regal construction of the main hall dwarfed the humble chamber where he’d enhanced the Brand of Avowal. The room he now entered was expansive by comparison, though it struck a middle ground between the two.

  As with the others, it was built of the same dark stone. This was lofty, the arched ceiling stretching a few meters over his head. A few paces in, the floor changed from the uniform, black, polished tile to a patchwork of grayscale, each roughly a meter square. Small flames burned in sconces on both sides of the room, illuminating its entire length—perhaps fifty meters. At the far end, inset into the wall and framed by yet more light—lanterns—a statue of a raven waited.

  As he had before, he could feel the call, the lure of the stone, urging him onward with haste.

  Motion to the left of the effigy caught his eye. Just beyond the differing hues of the tiles, a raven—one made of flesh—hopped across the floor. Its behavior seemed to be no different from the hundreds or thousands of birds that lived within Windwake, yet there was something about its graceful movements that felt intentional. To this point, beyond the reactions to his failures, nothing else had moved inside the hallowed halls of the Roost. A pit in his gut gave him worry that he’d already lost this test. However, he was not cast from the room. It didn’t attack him or push him back. Instead, it paused for a breath near the right wall, looking in his direction before flapping to a point near the middle of the room.

  Risens watched with a sense of curiosity as the bird continued over the tiles. In the silence of the chamber, he could hear the slight click-clack of its talons as they struck the tiles with every step and hop it took. This time, it came to a sudden halt as it reached a point near the left side of the chamber, closer to him. Again, it leveled its stare back at him before returning to the center of the far end of the hall, just before the raven statue.

  That there was purpose to its movements, he was certain. The first, smaller, innocuous-seeming chamber had proven painful. There, he’d been forced out by a solid wall of the raven’s natural predators. Was a similar fate awaiting him here? He knew that punishment would follow his failures, though he was not yet sure what or how severe. The moving barrier, while frightening and violent, was not intended to kill. Even if he had been cornered between the wall and the stone panel, there had been a gap preventing him from being crushed between the rocks. Again, the raven paused, staring at him before flapping back to the center of the chamber.

  He observed the avian creature for a long while before finally smiling to himself. He had identified a pattern. The test, if his guess were correct, was the path he was to follow. Each time, with the bird’s flighted return to the center of the room, the pattern began anew. It turned away from him, hopping a few paces forward before shifting direction and sidestepping. Counting each clack of its taloned feet, Risens watched as the bird finished its seemingly random path, returning yet again to the room’s center after fifty distinct movements.

  This was no unplanned series of movements. The pattern was unique but constant. The bird completed the same number of steps before resetting itself to a predetermined starting point. The door that blocked the access to the chamber had been troubling and painful, requiring him to trace a perfect copy of the Brand on the open space of the unmarked panel. The design and construction had been about symmetry, as was the marking itself. He’d mirrored the image to solve the riddle that granted him access. It was now the bird whose actions he must follow.

  Anxious energy swelled with each strut the bird took across the floor at the opposite end of the chamber. With a flight of only a few meters, it returned to the center, staring lifelessly at him before turning and stepping away once more.

  As the bird took three steps forward, Risens followed suit, walking out onto the patchwork flooring. For every raven step, he covered the corresponding number of tiles. He would be its mirror, its mimic. As it shifted directions, so did he. His confidence ballooned as he drifted steadily across the chamber. A half dozen steps in, the bird cut hard to the left, its walk broken by a single hop in the string before taking two more short steps.

  With confidence, Risens moved, eyes fixed on the four tiles he needed to cross. When his boot hit the second, a booming, hollow sound echoed through the room. The whole of his frame tensed, and his hands fell instinctively to the blades at his side. Panic set in as the tiles all across the room started disappearing at a frightening speed. They plummeted downward into the space below, leaving a deep chasm before him. He had managed to cross nearly a third of the distance between the entrance and the far side of the room, yet he knew making it to the other side was no longer possible. With dread driving his paces, he lunged backward.

  His first step on the next tile proved tragic.

  The moment his foot touched the stone, it shattered out from under him. With nothing to push off of, he fell, slamming abruptly into the side of the next charcoal-hued slab. It too dropped from where it was suspended upon impact.

  “No, no, no,” he grunted as he frantically clawed at the remaining tiles, desperate for solid ground. His actions were futile.

  All around him, the tightly fitted stones that comprised the checkered floor plunged into the darkness below, dragging him with them. There was nothing he could do beyond curse himself for his failure. One that would now see his doom. He expected to see the fiery mouth of Pylkev open before him, ushering him to his demise. But death didn’t greet him. It was merely an infinite span of blackness that spread out below. The falling stones disappeared one after another into the abyss.

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  He had always loved the sensation of floating through the air as he leaped between Windwake’s tall buildings. There was nothing enjoyable about his current soaring—more appropriately, uncontrolled plummet. The wind rushed in his ear while above, it seemed the bird above echoed his panicked complaint.

  The blackness that engulfed him was complete yet disturbingly familiar. Having traveled the pathways countless times, he understood the sensations of the windSteps. The features that resolved before his eyes were peculiarly alarming, particularly due to their perspective.

  He’d never crossed through a windStep that lay flat on the floor prior to this unintended event. The black tiles of the main hall of the Roost rushed toward him as he was spit out of the doorway with a speed matching his terrifying descent. There was little time for him to tuck his shoulder to cushion the force of the impact. His desperate attempt only made his return to the solid tile more intense—and painful. With a heavy bounce and a roll, he skidded to a stop, thankfully missing the closest stone pedestal by no more than a hand’s width.

  He gritted his teeth, slowly letting his core muscles relax. As he did, the pain and soreness asserted their complaints. He lay still on his back, taking stock of his condition, listening to the hammering of his racing heart. The echoes of his own frantic scream still rang in his ears. He was sore and undoubtedly bruised, but he still lived.

  Pulling himself into a seated position, ignoring the condescending glares of the stone ravens that surrounded him, he ran through the events leading to his current position. He understood the task at hand, the solution to the riddle, yet it was a misstep that betrayed him. The bird had hopped forward while he had only taken a step. His boot had landed one tile short of its required destination. The results, while horrifying and painful, served as a valuable lesson learned. Though he couldn’t be sure, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Each failure thus far had resulted in a painful end, but he expected none were intended to be deadly. In the first chamber, the wall had stopped, leaving space for him to survive. In this trial, the windStep vomited him back out at the start, with scraped elbows and a bruised ego, but otherwise unharmed. Complacency was a fatal flaw, yet he doubted any trial he would face here would spell his demise, even in failure, though he was loath to test the validity of this assumption.

  He looked around the room, finding the impatient glares of the stone ravens resting heavily on him. The doorways, illuminated with the aid of the candle, were again cloaked in shadow.

  The travel through the portal back into the trial chamber was far less jarring. He was unsurprised to find the room had reset to its original state. The varying tiles had been repositioned as if he’d never been there, while the bird at the opposite side renewed its purposeful movements. He took a moment. Watched to ensure that his winged nemesis would not surprise him with a wholly new pattern. Once he was satisfied the path remained the same, he hopped out onto the grid. With intentionality, he mimicked the motions of the raven as soon as its short flight returned it to the center.

  His focus was evenly split between tracking the steps and hops of the bird and his own as he followed an angular path across the tile. Anticipation mounted as the solid black tiles of the opposite end of the chamber steadily approached, as the count of movements neared the expected end. He struggled against the sudden urge to leap over the shortening gap instead of following the prescribed course. There could be no doubt that breaking from the intended track would be met with the same previously experienced discomfort.

  With a final step and hop, his boots landed on the uniform black stone beyond the checkered floor. The raven paused at the end of its track before turning toward him. From up close, he was finally able to study the creature. Though it moved like one of its natural kin, like the other ravens throughout the temple, it was clearly made of stone. It had moved with such fluidity that it left Risens speechless. Where was he that unthinking stone could act with such natural grace?

  The details of the workmanship were exquisite, down to the very tips of each feather. It stopped, cocking its head inquisitively at him.

  “What now, friend?” he asked.

  With a caw, the raven took to flight. Instead of returning to its starting point, it flapped across the chamber before disappearing through the windStep. Before it vanished, the echo of his words sounded through the chamber as if they emanated from the throat of the bird itself.

  Peculiarities of the spoken words echoing in his mind, he turned his attention to the statue of the raven inset on a ledge in the wall now closest to him. As with the previous chamber, the lure of the shrine was potent, attracting him to it like a moth to flame.

  Like the smaller raven whose actions Risens followed, the details of the sculpture were remarkable. Yet unlike said beast, its pose was peculiar—unnatural, inorganic. It stood upright, watching him with eyes that were eerily like his own. He stepped anxiously forward. He stopped as a sudden thought crossed his mind. He bowed his head, offering his silent respect for the unseen master of the house and for the guides that had illuminated his path.

  After his moment of reverence, he reached out, pressing his palm against the stone. The black, polished figure of the raven was surprisingly warm to the touch, as if the feathers had absorbed the radiant heat from a day basking in the rays of the sun. Lowering his hand in front of the bird, he fought the urge to pull it back. The statue groaned with movement as its foot reached out to touch his arm.

  As much as he tried to steel himself against what he knew was coming, the pain robbed him of his breath, forcing him to his knees. Searing agony radiated outward from his chest, stabbing through him like iron pokers heated in a fire. The pain came from a region lower than the last room, tearing through him just below his chest. The recent anguish from the broken ribs, arm, and the melting of his hand faded in his mind as the application of the new Brand far surpassed their discomfort.

  After several intense minutes, he was left panting and breathless, head hanging and buried between his hands and knees. It took several unsteady gasps to regain his composure, though the sound of his heart still hammered in his ears.

  Only days ago, he had dreamed of a Brand. Now he had two.

  He whispered his thanks to the raven for putting its faith in him before rising to his feet. Risens crossed the tiles of the floor with a determined stride, confident the stones would remain in place as he walked. He had completed the trial and earned the reward. This room, as with the other, would hold no power for him any longer.

  His tenacity was shattered as the rumbling voice stopped him in his tracks.

  You do well to offer your respect. Though do not resign yourself to that station. Know that, one day, they will genuflect before you.